


Something so Flawed and Free

by LilithReisender



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Ancient Rome, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Fluff, Historical, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kisses, M/M, Roman Kisses, Saturnalia, aziraphale - Freeform, crowley - Freeform, general sweetness, holiday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:07:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21943366
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilithReisender/pseuds/LilithReisender
Summary: The men carried out a series of long wooden tables and set them down in the middle of the square with a heavythump. When each table was properly arranged, there was a sudden outburst of applause and raucous cheering. Crowley raised an eyebrow, it seemed like some of them had already broken into the wine. Fine by him, start the celebrations early. Crowley smirked, feeling the energy rising in the town. Soon the entire city would be running rampant with celebrations and sins, it was as close to paradise as a demon could get. Crowley felt a familiar presence tug at his chest and he turned his head sharply searching the crowd around him. It looked like the holidays were about to get even better.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 41





	Something so Flawed and Free

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KannaOphelia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KannaOphelia/gifts).



> Dedication: To my dear friend, the wonderful and utterly lovely KannaOphelia. I feel like I have known you forever, I cannot believe it has only been six months since we met. You have brought me so much joy and love, my darling sister, and I will forever be thankful to have you in my life. 
> 
> On the off chance that you _haven't_ read any of her work, go do that. Right now. Her stories are absolutely and utterly amazing and I cannot recommend them enough.

**Rome, 50 AD**

Crowley- to put it simply, was having the time of his life. Humans had truly gotten creative when they made up the whole thing with the Roman Pantheon, and the festivals that came with it? They gave the parties in Hell a run for their money. Where else did you have seven days set aside specifically to celebrate and commit all sorts of sins while calling it revelry? At this very moment, Crowley was currently overseeing that the largest and most ridiculous tree in the nearby area was put in the exact location that he desired it. It was a tradition that the Romans had become fond of in recent years, thinking that it would protect them in the coming of the new year. Crowley had to keep up appearances somehow. If word got out that Crowley _wasn't_ being a proper Roman citizen for Saturnalia, his entire mission would be ruined. He had been working long and hard at slowly corrupting the majority of the current senate (not that it required much effort, it just took bloody forever to get through all of them) and if suspicion began to fall on _him_ instead of the senate members, well, Dagon would certainly have him filling out paperwork as to why he failed a minor temptation for the next decade. 

Crowley knew he could have just miracled the blessed tree into place, but there was already enough suspicion on him in his own house. He heard the rumors that the servants whispered when they thought he was out of earshot, _demon, spirit, minor god on earth_ , and the like. It wasn't that he minded the reputation, but he did _not_ need anymore unwanted attention, lest rumors begin to spread. But after watching the various servants struggle for another ten minutes, Crowley decided that he had to intervene for his own sanity. They already thought he wasn't human, so what harm could showing a _little bit_ of extra strength do?

Apparently the answer was: too much. Crowley had thought that he was being subtle with his little display, but by the wide-eyed looks some of the men where giving him, he had gone just a little bit overboard. _Bless it._

"All right, everyone get back to work." Crowley willed them all to keep moving. He doubted this was the weirdest thing they had seen while working in his household and besides, they all stayed there willingly, and the option of leaving was always up to them. At this point, the ones who were still there were the ones who didn't mind Crowley's... oddness, and would willingly put it aside as long as they still had chambers and a nice meal at the end of the day. Of course, Crowley was a demon, he couldn't go around being _nice_ to the humans, but by giving them their own freedom not only was Crowley deliberately going against the status quo of the empire, but he also employed the nature of free will and allowed their actions to slowly influence those of servants belonging to other nobles. Soon the people would be demanding freedom from their masters and another whole wave of discord and rioting would add to the already tense stability of the Roman hierarchy. 

Once Crowley's villa was set up exactly the way he wanted it, he joined the rest of the servants in going to the center of the town. 

The men carried out a series of long wooden tables and set them down in the middle of the square with a heavy _thump_. When each table was properly arranged, there was a sudden outburst of applause and raucous cheering. Crowley raised an eyebrow, it seemed like some of them had already broken into the wine. Fine by him, start the celebrations early. Crowley smirked, feeling the energy rising in the town. Soon the entire city would be running rampant with celebrations and sins, it was as close to paradise as a demon could get. Crowley felt a familiar presence tug at his chest and he turned his head sharply searching the crowd around him. It looked like the holidays were about to get even better. 

Crowley found him standing at the back of the crowd, watching contentedly as people began to bring out a variety of meats and fresh-baked pastries. The _synthesis_ that he wore in layers of blue and white draped over his plump body spectacularly- clearly Aziraphale wasn't _completely_ out of touch with modern fashion. 

"Hello Aziraphale," Crowley smirked, winding an arm around Aziraphale's waist and kissed him on the cheek. _Osculum._ A greeting that friends would use upon seeing each other. The Romans had invented various ways to greet each other through kisses, and it was an activity in which Crowley was more than happy to partake.

"Hello serpent," Aziraphale laughed. He didn't move out of Crowley's arm, which he took as a good sign for the evening.

"What brings you here, angel? I'm certain its not just the festivities." Crowley whispered in Aziraphale's ear. 

"Just checking up on an old charge, remember that boy Nero I was supposed to um... influence? Just making sure that everything is going to plan. I heard that he's still interested in music, which is a good sign I believe. I'm supposed to head to the court soon to make sure that he doesn't take things too far, after that nasty business with his mother."

Crowley and Aziraphale watched as people began to bring out jugs of _incredibly_ strong wine and the celebrations truly begun. Crowley raised one hand and a man handed them two clay cups filled almost to the brim with dark red wine. Crowley handed one cup to Aziraphale.

 _"io Saturnalia_ ," Crowley held up the clay cup.

"io Saturnalia," Aziraphale toasted Crowley and they both took a sip of wine. 

"How about you come back to mine for the next couple of days?" Crowley asked after a few minutes of watching the festivities.

"Pardon?"

"Come back to mine, just for the next few days, wait for everything to die down before moving on, Satan knows you won't get anything done while people are drunk for a week." 

"I'm not sure that's a good idea..." Aziraphale trailed off, taking another sip of wine.

"Sure it is," Crowley said, leaning forward and whispering into Aziraphale's ear, letting a bit of temptation fall into his voice. "Keep each other in check, won't we? I won't be causing any excess trouble, and you won't be doing any excess good."

"Well," Aziraphale said, turning to face Crowley so that they were mere centimeters apart, "when you put it like that, how can I refuse?"

Crowley looked at the young boy who was currently directing where everyone was going to be seated. He pointed at the bed on the left, where traditionally the "honored guest" would sit, and then motioned for Crowley and Aziraphale to lie down and wait for the food to arrive.

"Pardon me," Aziraphale said as he settled himself next to Crowley, "but why is that young child acting as if he is in charge?"

"You really haven't spent much time in Rome have you? I'd have thought you would know this by now." Crowley said, settling onto the extravagant _leetus_ where they would eat. "For the next seven days there is a _King of Saturnalia_ chosen to run the house and generally create chaos. There was a whole scavenger hunt for a coin that determined who got to be king this year and, with a little demonic intervention, the kid _just so happened_ to be the one to find it." Crowley looked over at the boy, who was currently reclining next to his mother on the bed that was usually reserved for the master of the household. Crowley glanced over at Aziraphale out of his peripheral vision and saw that Aziraphale was smiling at him softly. 

"What are you grinning at?" Crowley asked, shifting so he was facing the angel. 

"Nothing at all, my dear." Crowley felt his face heat up, although he wasn't sure why. 

It was just that moment that the little king of Saturnalia decided to live up to his job of "creating chaos" and walked up to the bed with a mischievous grin on his face as he no-so-subtly hid something behind his back. He stopped right in front of Aziraphale and pulled out a single sprig of mistletoe and held it up over the angel's head. Crowley chuckled at Aziraphale's confused expression. 

"Do you know what mistletoe means, angel?" Crowley said as the boy stared at them expectantly, one eyebrow raised.

"I mean- I believe so, but it has had so many different uses over the past hundred years-" Crowley shut him up by planting a gentle kiss on Aziraphale's lips. Aziraphale turned bright pink at the sudden contact, and Crowley couldn't help it, he began to laugh at the angel's flustered expression. The boy- who Crowley forgot had been watching all of this- laughed as well and turned back to the rest of the room, announcing that dinner was going to be served in a few minutes. Upon hearing that Crowley, regrettably, stood up and began to follow the boy out of the room, ignoring Aziraphale's now confused face. Really, he'd been in Rome long enough that one would think that he understood the traditions. The masters fed the servants. It was one of the most interesting parts of the celebration, making the people equals for a week with no fear of repercussions. 

Crowley came back into the room a few minutes later with a plate of fruits held in both hands, smirking as Aziraphale looked at him with an odd expression. Crowley set the plate down next to Aziraphale and went back to the spot where he had been reclining before. 

"First course?" Aziraphale asked, staring at the plate of fruit between them. Crowley picked up a slice of a pear and gently held it up to Aziraphale's lips, which parted automatically to receive the fruit.

Crowley bit his lip and held back a sigh. 

* * *

The next morning Crowley and Aziraphale were seated at a table with a board and three dice between them. 

"You first angel, I insist." Aziraphale raised an eyebrow at him, but picked up the dice regardless, throwing them onto the board with a gentle toss. The angel grinned as he placed three white pieces on the board. 

"Your move I believe,"

 _Tabula_ a simple game with dice and checkers, but one that could be made far more interesting- with a few alterations of course. Crowley picked up his own dice and rolled them, smirking as he moved his pieces past Aziraphale's and the grin left the angel's face. Aziraphale rolled again and grimaced, moving a single piece forward. Crowley threw his dice once more and winked at the angel, bringing another piece on the board and capturing one of Aziraphale's. 

"You know," Crowley said as Aziraphale picked up his dice with a determined look, "this is fun as it is, but how about we raise the stakes a bit?"

Aziraphale raised an eyebrow, "What did you have in mind?"

Crowley gestured to the left with his head. "You see that woman over there?" Aziraphale looked over and nodded. "Right now her soul is balanced perfectly between Heaven and Hell. She steals food- to feed her family, she tricks people into giving her money and jewelry- which she later gives to children. How about..." he paused, waiting for Aziraphale's permission to keep going. Aziraphale gestured with one hand and Crowley kept speaking, leaning in conspiratorially. "How about we make this little game of ours a wager, best of three, whoever wins gets to keep her soul?" 

Aziraphale hesitated, and Crowley could see the battle in his head being played out on his face. 

"Fine." Aziraphale agreed after a few more minutes of internal debate. "But no cheating, you old serpent- don't think I didn't notice." 

"Fine," Crowley acquiesced. "Now, I believe its your move?"

The game lasted the majority of the day. It wasn't Crowley's fault- not entirely anyways. Both of them knew that "no cheating" meant that both of them were allowed to cheat, as long as neither of them got caught. Aziraphale would move one piece forward, Crowley would take one off. It made for an interesting game. Finally it was down to two pieces on the board: one black, one white. 

"Crowley, are you going to go or not?" Aziraphale asked, looking at him inquisitively. It was a question that Crowley was currently asking himself. He rolled the dice, and Aziraphale grinned.

"Tough luck I'm afraid, but good game nonetheless." Aziraphale smiled, and in that moment Crowley thought that it was more than worth losing a soul to see Aziraphale smile.

"Apparently I'm supposed to go to the senate immediately after the celebrations are done. As in, on the last day." Aziraphale said with sadness in his voice.

"Well then, I suppose we best celebrate while we can." Crowley waved one hand in the air and ordered another jug of wine.

* * *

On the third day Aziraphale insisted on attending a play that the locals had decided to put on. _Cupid and Psyche._ Interesting choice for something that was supposed to be a day of celebration, but there they were anyway. It was a rather fanciful tale of a young woman scorned for a god's jealousy over something she couldn't control. Oddly enough, it was one of the few stories of theirs that had a happy ending. Crowley had seen it many times before, but Aziraphale was captivated by the play. 

_"Have you any doubt of my love?"_ Cupid was saying, explaining why he wouldn't let Psyche see him, _"Have you any wish ungratified? If you saw me, perhaps you would fear me, perhaps adore me, but all I ask of you is to love me. I would rather you love me as an equal than adore me as anything else."_

Perfect. That was bloody fantastic. Crowley stared straight ahead, watching the exaggerated scene before him and deliberately _not_ looking at the angel who was sitting _very_ close to him. Whenever Aziraphale needed him, Crowley always came running, whether the angel realized it or not. It had taken them a long while to get here, to the point where they could be together in public without fear. Crowley wouldn't do anything to sacrifice that. If- one day, perhaps- Aziraphale was no longer blinded by Heaven's influence, maybe then Crowley could show him what he's truly meant all these years but until then Crowley would be content to love in silence, in darkness. 

_"While my soul may crave for more- to be able to touch and see you in the light- for now I can be satisfied with darkness; knowing you are mine and I am yours."_

Aziraphale sighed and Crowley spared a glance at the angel, who was staring stiffly ahead, and Crowley couldn't help but think that the angel wasn't so much as watching the play as he was seeing through it. As Aziraphale leaned forward, a traitorous, rebellious part of Crowley couldn't help but wonder if it was possible that Aziraphale already knew- after all, the angel was anything but daft. Then perhaps there was a chance, a slight chance, that maybe Aziraphale was settling for silence as well- that perhaps the angel wasn't as far out of his reach as Crowley thought he was. 

Well, that certainly put things in a different light.

* * *

The next two days passed in a blur of drunken conversations, parties, games, and feasts. And Crowley found himself having quite a good time indeed. Not only was he free to spend the days as he wished with Aziraphale, but he even got away with tempting the angel, multiple times in fact. After they dined on rich food and fine wine each evening, they would retire back to Crowley's chambers and continue their drunken conversations for hours until Crowley eventually got tired and fell asleep. Aziraphale was never there when he woke up the next morning, but they would meet up again for breakfast and continue with their days. They hadn't spend so much time together since before the flood, back when there were very few humans and even less things to do, leaving themselves the other's only company. 

On the sixth eve of Saturnalia celebrations, well, that was when things got interesting. They had eaten dinner, and drank, and then had dessert, and drank; and now Crowley was back in his chambers lying down on a rather elaborate mattress with an even more exquisite angel lying right across from him, a flattering pink blush dusting his cheeks. Crowley was having trouble paying attention to exactly what Aziraphale was saying, he kept getting distracted by Aziraphale's beautiful green-blue eyes and his soft lips and how infuriatingly, wonderfully close they were. 

"Crowley, I've been wondering,"

"Yes? Dangerous that."

"I've been wondering why you've stayed in Rome this long." Crowley opened his mouth, about to protest that he really hadn't been there for very long, but Aziraphale cut him off. "Don't give me that look, I know that you've been somewhere in the city for at least the past century. What I want to know is _why_ what is so special to you about this city."

"How many times have you walked down the streets in front of Palatine Hill? Not working or doing anything, but just walked for the sake of seeing things?" Crowley asked instead.

"I can't say I have had the chance."

"It's like nothing you've ever felt angel, the _sin,_ the _decadence_ , you can almost taste it in the air." Crowley snaked one finger over the top of Aziraphale's hand. "The energy that these humans give off, its infectious. They fill their lives and homes with beautiful things while committing the most heinous of acts, as if one offsets the other. They bathe themselves in blood one day and drape themselves in gold the next."

"But they also _create_ ," Aziraphale countered. "They make music and food and plays and philosophy, they try so hard to live by their virtues, its only the elites who act as if their actions have no consequences." 

"Maybe that's it. It's neutral." Crowley said, thinking aloud. "In the end, it balances out doesn't it? The virtue and the sin."

"I suppose so."

"So, whatever they do, as long as it balances out, they aren't harmed?" Crowley mused.

"I think it more balances out the total atmosphere of the city, not the individuals." Aziraphale pondered. They were quiet before Crowley spoke again. He wasn't sure what made him ask, whether it was the wine or if he had been wanting to ask the question for a while.

"You know, Aziraphale," Crowley started, "there's this tradition here where they exchange gifts on the last day of the celebrations. I was- I was wondering if I could get you something?" Crowley wasn't sure where the offer had come from, demons weren't even supposed to be around angels, let alone give them gifts. But it wasn't just any angel, it was _Aziraphale,_ and Crowley found that he was completely serious in his offer. No matter what Aziraphale wanted, Crowley would give it to him. 

"My dear, thank you, but that's absurd. We both know that angels and demons shouldn't-"

"Aziraphale, forget about what you should or shouldn't do. What do _you_ want?" Crowley interrupted, his voice soft. Aziraphale stared at him with wide eyes, his cheeks growing pinker than they already were. Crowley bit his lip, and Aziraphale's eyes flickered downward before meeting Crowley's again in a soft gaze. Slowly, Aziraphale raised his hand and placed it on Crowley's cheek. Crowley's eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the warmth of Aziraphale's hand. Crowley felt a sigh brush across his lips and then Aziraphale was kissing him. Light and soft, as if he thought Crowley would disappear under his touch. Crowley didn't even get the chance to react before Aziraphale pulled back, dropping his hand from Crowley's cheek as he sat up and turned away. 

"I'm sorry- I mean, I shouldn't have presumed-"

Crowley sat up and maneuvered his way around so that he was facing Aziraphale once more. He gently tugged Aziraphale's wrist, and the angel finally looked at him, nervousness written all over his face. Crowley smiled softly and kissed Aziraphale again. The angel immediately melted into the touch, his lips parting as Crowley slid one hand to rest on Aziraphale's lovely round hip. They had kissed before, in greeting and farewell, but none of them had been like this. Those had been quick and chaste, a welcome touch always, but they had never done anything like this together. There had never been true meaning and well- _intent_ behind it. Crowley shifted again so he could straddle Aziraphale's thighs and take his face in both hands, bringing the angel's lips up to his once more. 

_"Angel,"_ Crowley sighed, trying to convey everything he was feeling at the moment in one word. Aziraphale's hands moved to Crowley's lower back, pulling him closer so that Crowley had to tilt his head downward to keep kissing him. Crowley pulled away momentarily, taking a breath of air that he didn't need and surged downward to capture Aziraphale's lips with his own once more. This was different, the pushing desperation behind each movement, the way that Aziraphale held him somehow both firm and delicate, as if he were afraid that Crowley would fall apart to pieces in his arms. Crowley worked his way downwards, kissing along Aziraphale's jawline and down to the hollow of his neck. 

_"Crowley,"_ Aziraphale sighed, tilting his head up. Crowley ran his hands up Aziraphale's sides, relishing the feeling of soft flesh giving beneath his hands. He moved back up to kiss Aziraphale's lips once more. Aziraphale grabbed the loose fabric of Crowley's synthesis and pulled them both downward so Crowley was on his hands and knees with Aziraphale beneath him, leaning upwards so he could maintain the kiss without breaking away. He had, admittedly, spent a fair amount of time imagining this exact situation; had fantasized about nipping at the angel's bottom lip and hearing that sharp little inhale. But the reality of it was so much better, the feeling of warm lips on his, desperate and urgent, there was nothing that he could ever have thought of that could have lived up to it. What he hadn't imagined however, was Aziraphale putting his hand on Crowley's chest and pushing him away slightly. There was a glimmer of regret in Aziraphale's eyes and Crowley was off of him in a heartbeat, scrambling so he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He hung his head down, staring blankly at the folds of his robes. He should have known better than to think this would last. After a moment, Aziraphale sat down next to him, taking the demon's hand between his own. 

"I'm sorry my dear." Crowley hummed noncommittally. He knew why the angel had done it, knew that technically he was right and that stopping now before it went too far was the safest option, but that didn't mean he had to like it. "It's not that I don't- It's just that-"

"I know, angel. I know full well." There was a great divide between them, and no matter how close they came to crossing it, something would _always_ pull them away. 

"I'm sorry." Aziraphale repeated, sounding sorrowful. "I think it would be best for both of us if I got going." He didn't sound happy about it. Aziraphale stood up and went to walk away, but Crowley grabbed his hand at the last second. 

"One more, just one more," Crowley pleaded, not caring how desperate he sounded. "Then you can leave and things can go back to... back to as they were. But let me have this one last thing." Crowley's chest ached with the thought of once again having to pretend to not love Aziraphale. The angel stared at him with something like heartbreak on his face. He nodded once, and took Crowley's face in his hands. Slowly, he kissed one eyelid, then the other, and then finally, _finally,_ kissed his lips with a soft urgency. Crowley didn't dare move, neither did Aziraphale. They made that last, single kiss last as long as they could. 

Eventually, Aziraphale pulled away, just slightly, just enough so that he rest his forehead against Crowley's and whisper softly,

"I should probably leave now." _Stay,_ Crowley wanted to protest, _forget about them, forget about everything. Can't we just have this?_ But he knew better, Aziraphale wouldn't give in so easily. Aziraphale stood up straight, dropping his hands from Crowley's face.

"Goodbye, my dear Crowley. I hope to see you tomorrow, if you'll have me."

Crowley watched in silence as Aziraphale walked away, closing the door silently behind him. It was only when Aziraphale was gone that Crowley finally let out a shaky exhale.

"Goodbye angel. I'll always have you, whenever you need me, I'll be there."

Crowley flung himself down on the bed, turning over and burying his face in the sheets. Why did there have to be sides? Humans switched sides constantly between one side and the other, why couldn't Crowley take Aziraphale and leave where nobody would find them? Crowley knew the answer. As long as Aziraphale was an angel, he would remain loyal to Heaven. He would always put them first, no matter what he felt.

That was one good thing to come out of this evening, Crowley supposed, Aziraphale obviously felt _something_ for him, something beyond comradery and friendship. At least Crowley could have that. At least he had one memory of when Aziraphale had been his, if only for a while. 

* * *

Crowley woke up the next morning to sunlight filtering in through the window. He had eventually fallen into a fretful sleep the night before, tossing and turning until he forced his corporation into unconsciousness. Today was the last day of the festivities, and tomorrow Aziraphale would be leaving to go do- whatever he had been assigned. Crowley turned onto his back and groaned. How was he supposed to go back to how things had been, to act like he hadn't known the pleasure of an angel's lips on his. He would smile and he would tempt and he would tease,-and he would pretend that all was well, and he knew that Aziraphale would do the same. The angel would go back to acting like his usual stuffy self. They wouldn't talk about it, both of them knew what had happened last night, and both of them knew what the consequences would be if their respective head offices found out. Crowley could probably talk his way out of it, claim he was working on tempting the angel to lust, but Aziraphale could make no such claim. He didn't know what Heaven would do if they found out somehow, but he guaranteed that they wouldn't just send a rude note. No, it was better for both of them if they went about as they were. And yet... Aziraphale had kissed _him_ , not the other way around. Crowley couldn't forget that.

One more day. He had one more day before Aziraphale would leave and Crowley would be stuck to help the death of an already corrupt court.

Crowley remembered his promise the night before, that he would give something to Aziraphale today. What some of the humans did was they made little clay dolls to give to people, but Crowley doubted that a small trinket would be an adequate gift. Sometimes they would exchange wine? That seemed like a bad idea, they had drank enough wine last night. Suddenly Crowley remembered what he had seen some of the humans doing in the past. Poems. The humans would either find poems to give to their friends, or write the poems themselves. Aziraphale loved his scrolls, loved the stories they told. Crowley wasn't one for sentimentality, he wouldn't write some long tragedy the way the humans did in their plays. But there was one thing that just might work

> _To hear your voice is pomegranate wine to me:_ _I draw life from hearing it._ _Could I see you with every glance,_ _It would be better for me_ _Than to eat or to drink._

It was old, from back when Egypt was the largest empire in the world, but it was something that Crowley remembered from that long ago. He folded the piece of papyrus and slipped it in the pocket of his robe. He would give it to Aziraphale later, just before the angel left, that way he wouldn't have to see Aziraphale's face as he read it. Crowley wasn't sure he could bear that kind of torment.

He looked out the window at the rising sun. Every minute he spent was another minute gone before Aziraphale had to leave. He intended to make the most of what little time he had left.

He found Aziraphale sitting upright on a couch with a plate of fruits and bread next to him as his eyes furiously scanned an unnaturally white piece of papyrus that reeked of heavenly "goodness."

"What have you got there?" Crowley asked in lieu of any other greeting. Aziraphale startled, quickly turning the page away so that Crowley couldn't see it.

"My orders. I was trying to see if- never mind, it's not important." Crowley sat down next to Aziraphale, snaking an arm around the angel's shoulders. Aziraphale leaned into his side, and Crowley tried to regain control of his thoughts, which had suddenly decided that the only thing that mattered was how the angel seemed to fit perfectly against him. 

"So, last day." Crowley said, attempting to sound causal.

"Yes." Aziraphale agreed, "I got another message last night, Gabriel is getting quite annoyed. I'm supposed to leave tonight to go to Nero's court. They want me to placate him and his tempers for a little while longer before another war breaks out." Crowley had heard all about the war that was to come, he also knew what was supposed to be Nero's fate. It was the reason he was infiltrating the senate after all. 

"Is there anything you want to do before you leave?" Crowley whispered into Aziraphale's ear. 

"I think I should very much like to attend a concert today. I heard that there is to be a young man playing the lute sometime in the next few hours. But I think that for now, I would like to rest before returning to the chaos of the empirical court." Crowley nodded amicably. There were definitely worse things than a day full of sloth and music. 

"So, Aziraphale," Crowley said, starting up an ongoing debate, "what on _earth_ was the Almighty thinking when she went about making the platypus?"

The hours flew by in companionable conversation, both of them clearly avoiding the elephant in the room. If this was how it was going to be, Crowley could live with that. He wouldn't _like_ it per-se, but friendship was better than nothing at all. They sat next to each other in the amphitheater, knees just barely touching. There were a lot of people, and there was very little room, Crowley would say if Hell mentioned it. They had to sit next to each other, keep your friends close but your enemies closer and all that. The truth was: he didn't want to let go of Aziraphale. Not yet. The audience was lively, everyone was chattering about the end of the holiday and about the renowned skill of the young man who was supposed to be performing for them. 

"He's Apollo on Earth." Crowley heard someone behind him say. He wanted to laugh at that, if the humans thought this performer was one of their gods, this was bound to be a very enjoyable evening. 

Eventually the man came into the center of the amphitheater and sat down on the stool provided. The audience silenced as he picked up his lute and dark slender fingers plucked at the strings with an almost inhuman grace. Crowley heard Aziraphale take a sharp breath after the first few chords, and Crowley understood what he was feeling. The music was stunning, and the man himself seemed to be in a trance as he played, his hands automatically finding the right notes. After a few bars he began to sing, a sad, lamenting tune about blessed days coming to an end and love leaving to not be seen again. Crowley felt as if somebody had ripped out his heart from his body and left him with a gaping hole where it had been. He looked at Aziraphale next to him, the angel's hand was over his mouth and it looked like there were tears in his eyes. Hesitantly, Crowley reached over and took the angel's free hand in his. If this was their last evening together until Satan knew when, Crowley would blessed well let himself enjoy it. Aziraphale shifted closer, pulling both their hands into his lap as he rubbed circles on the top of Crowley's hand. They let the music wash over them, resonating in the theater long after the man had stopped playing. Eventually the music ended and people began to leave. Crowley and Aziraphale stayed sitting there until they were the last two people in the seats. Neither of them made the first move to get up. 

It was sundown before either of them moved. Aziraphale stood up, pulling Crowley up with him. He still hadn't let go of Crowley's hand. 

"The day is over." Aziraphale said simply. Crowley nodded, not trusting himself to say anything. "I'd- I'd best be going." Crowley stayed silent, there was nothing else for him to say, nothing that would convince Aziraphale to stay for any longer. "Walk with me, for just a little while." It was only then that Aziraphale dropped his hand and Crowley followed him out of the amphitheater. They walked to the edge of town before stopping. Crowley knew what would happen next.

"My dear, I-" 

Crowley cut him off with a kiss. He took the angel's face in his hands and kissed him for all the words he could not bring himself to say. Aziraphale melted into him, one hand coming up to grip his shoulder. One last kiss, he had to have one last kiss before they pretended that this had never happened. Crowley made the stolen kiss last as long as he dared before he pulled away reluctantly. Aziraphale looked at him, and Crowley could see his own pain reflected in Aziraphale's eyes. Crowley reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out the small piece of papyrus he had carried with him all day. 

"Take this with you."

"Crowley, I can't-"

"It's a gift. Aziraphale please. Just take it." Aziraphale reached out and took the small scroll from his hand, holding it gingerly. "Don't open it here." Crowley advised, and Aziraphale nodded. Crowley stood up straight, trying to put on a brave face and failing spectacularly.

"Goodbye, angel." Crowley said softly, closing his eyes. He felt a soft whisper of a kiss press against his lips. 

"Goodbye, my darling demon."

There was a flutter of wings and a gust of wind, then Crowley opened his eyes, and Aziraphale was gone.

* * *

Eventually, Crowley made his way back to his villa, back to the room he had stayed in the night before. The room felt different, empty. There was no angelic presence left anywhere in the area, Crowley assumed he had made it to Nero's court by now. He didn't see what difference any angelic intervention would make, the emperor would be dead in the next two decades anyways. Crowley looked over at the bed, contemplating going to sleep for the next year or so, when something caught his eye. A small scroll was rolled up neatly on his bed, tied together with a simple thread. 

Crowley picked up the note, gently untying the string that held the scroll closed. It was a passage, short- a mere four lines written, but lines he would know anywhere. 

_Though this wall doth divide us,_

_here I shall stand, my willing heart to yours._

_And while our homes forbid we meet,_

_know that I shall remember this blessed eve forevermore._

Pyramus and Thisbe. Crowley understood the parallels Aziraphale had drawn. Two lovers from different rivaling families who could only meet at night with a wall between them. Crowley rolled up the scroll and held it to his chest. _Doomed lovers._ It was a laughable notion to apply to a demon and angel, but it was there nonetheless. Crowley sighed. Aziraphale loved him. That wasn't nothing. That was something he could fight for. Crowley could live with that. Aziraphale loved him, and while Aziraphale knew that he wouldn't say it outright, not yet anyways, the feeling was still there. And while it may not have been safe for Crowley to say it, he could certainly show it. That gave him all the hope he needed.

"Goodbye Aziraphale, until we meet again, _my_ angel. 

**Author's Note:**

> 1) Chapter title taken from Hozier's _Movement._
> 
> 2) The first few lines of the Psyche and Cupid play are taken from my copy of Bullfinch's Mythology. The rest are of my own invention. The poem that Crowley gives Aziraphale is an excerpt from _The Flower Song,_ a surviving love poem from Ancient Egypt. The lines from Pyramus and Thisbe are completely made up by me.
> 
> 3) Saturnalia is everything I have described in this fic. It was a holiday that went for seven days, starting just after the winter solstice. Roman citizens were supposed to wear a fancy toga called a _synthesis_ of which we know very little about what it looks like, although we do know that it was worn with a girdle during Saturnalia because Nero was shamed for wearing an ungirdled synthesis during Saturnalia. There was an elected _Saturnalia Princeps_ or, "King of Saturnalia" who would run the house and create chaos for those seven days. The servants were free for those seven days, and they would eat before their masters did, there were even some accounts of the masters feeding the servants. There was gift giving, games, gambling, and _lots_ of drinking. On the last day of Saturnalia, people would give gifts to their friends and family usually consisting of poems, small clay figurines and toys, wine, jewelry, and money.


End file.
